When I'm Gone
by Muirn Beatha Dans
Summary: If he was going to try to kill himself, he was going to make sure he succeeded. Oneshot.


Ok, so I know this story is not the most original idea, but it was in my head, so I wrote it down. I think it's pretty good, but I'll let you decide for sure.

Hope you'll enjoy this story!

* * *

**When I'm Gone**

**Chapter 1**

He sat alone on the bathroom floor. _Hurt. Pain. Loneliness. _Those were the thoughts running through his head as he ran the knife across his arm. He let a tear slip out as the blood trickled down to the floor. Next time he would make a bigger gash. Maybe it would take more pain away. He squeezed his eyes shut as he dug the knife deeper in his arm.

He heard his brother come through the door of the grungy motel room. He quickly turned on the faucet and ran a rag underneath the steaming water. He pressed down on his new wounds until the blood stopped flowing.

"Hey Samantha, stop primping yourself in the bathroom and come eat." Dean yelled at his younger brother.

Sam wrapped a bandage around his cut and pulled his long sleeves down as he walked out of the bathroom and over to the bed. He could hide his pain for now…

--

Dean saw the pain in his brother's eyes. Sam didn't know it, but he saw. He has seen it every day since Jessica died. He wanted to help him, but how could he help when he felt the same pain?

He couldn't let Sam see that he was in pain, so he hid it. He put on his brave face and made a joke about anything and everything. It helped him hide it. If he didn't look like he was in pain, then how would Sam be able to see it?

So he killed. He killed the Supernatural. He killed every evil son of a bitch that he could. Because that took the pain away. It didn't take it away completely, but it at least helped to mask the pain for a little while.

It was his therapy.

--

He knew he shouldn't hurt himself. He also knew that it was the only thing that could help him. If he inflicted pain on himself, it would take away the pain in his heart, right?

So he continued to cut himself. He continued to hide it from his brother. He continued to feel miserable.

He has tried other things. Drinking. Drugs. He even tried to end his life. He bought the pills. He dumped the bottle out and even bought a bottle of tequila. He would stare at the pills as if they were going to disappear. He even went as far as to actually have the pills in front of his mouth. He ended up throwing them down the toilet.

What if it didn't work? What if he didn't take enough? All of the 'what if's' ran through his head. If he was going to try to kill himself, he was going to make sure he succeeded.

--

He thought he was good at hiding the scars on his arms. He wore long sleeves. He wouldn't go shirtless in front of Dean. He tried to keep all of the attention away from his arms.

But Dean still knew. Maybe he heard Sam crying in the bathroom late at night. Maybe he saw the scars. Sam didn't know how his brother knew.

Dean wanted to comfort his brother. He wanted to tell him that everything would be okay. He just wanted his brother to be happy for once in his life.

--

Dean confronted Sam about it before. He walked in on Sam in the middle of cutting his arm again.

_Dean snatched the knife away from Sam. _

"_This has to stop, Sam! Cutting yourself will **not** take away the pain!"_

"_It helps, Dean! If I can feel the pain in my arm, it helps take away all of the other pain." Sam tried to grab the knife away from his brother._

_Dean held the knife against his own arm. "If you think cutting yourself is going to take away the pain, you need to get help!" Dean put pressure down on the knife so it sliced his skin open._

"_This," he indicated to his arm "will not help you!" He angrily threw the knife onto the floor and walked out, leaving Sam on the bathroom floor. _

--

Nothing was ever spoken about the night in the bathroom again. If Sam got angry around Dean, all Dean would say to him was to not cut himself. It was just habit now. "Don't cut yourself." It was like their new slogan or something.

Sam didn't listen, though. Dean didn't expect him to. Sam wanted the pain to go away. He wanted it all to stop. He wanted to have Jessica back. He wanted his dad back.

He didn't know how to take the pain away permanently, but he could take it away for short periods. He just wanted to feel whole again. But how?

--

So how would he take the pain away? There was only one way for sure that would take it away completely.

Sam waited until Dean left the motel room. He walked over to his duffel bag and dug through it until he found what he was looking for. He held the .45 in his hands and for a moment, just stared at it. Was he actually going to do this?

Sam dug through the bag some more and found the bullets. He carefully loaded the gun with just one bullet and he walked over to his bed. As he sat down all of these thoughts were running through his mind.

_Mom._

_Jessica._

_Dad._

_Dean… _

Dean. What was Dean going to do if Sam went through with this? Sam knew his brother would be devastated, but Sam couldn't go through with this for the rest of his life. He couldn't be in pain _every day_. It was just too much to ask.

Sam tried this before but didn't go through with it. Was he going to actually go through with it this time?

_If he was going to try to kill himself, he was going to make sure he succeeded._

Dean was unlocking the door to the motel when he heard the gunshot.

Sam succeeded.

**End.**

* * *

So? Was it terrible? Please give me your thoughts!

Roxy


End file.
